The BLTS Archive - Soul and Anchor by Ananke (aeteananke@gmail.com) --- Published: 02-20-02 - Updated: 02-20-02 Disclaimer: ST: DS9 and all related characters owned by Paramount Studios, no copyright infringement intended. --- ...that was the first thing I had to learn about her, and maybe the hardest I've ever learned about anything-that she is her own, and what she gives me is of her choosing, and the more precious because of it. Sometimes a butterfly will come to sit in your open palm, but if you close your hand, one way or another, it-and it's choice to be there- are gone. ---Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane --- "Always driven toward new shores,or carried hence without hope of return, shall we never, on the ocean of age, cast anchor for even a day?" "I know Worf has been contacting you regularly, Dax, but isn't that a bit depressing for Klingon love poetry?" The smooth, slightly foreign voice tickled her ears from behind. "Oh...no." Glancing up with a faintly distracted smile, Ezri Dax stuffed her padd under an arm, matching stride with Deep Space Nine's doctor as he strode along the promenade. "Julian, it's a quotation, old Earth, by Alphonse de Lamartine. Nog found it in the database and became...well, fascinated. I've been sure to put in extra time with him since the Jem'Hadar attacked the station..." "And the Defiant." Grim tones to reflect grim memories. Time had passed since the attack itself, but fears and haunts were fresh. Nog and Ezri had been on the Defiant. Had saved the station, in fact. Become heroes. Heroism had led to career changes for the counselor and more counseling for the boy. Sparing a glance, he touched her elbow just slightly, drawing attention back from the padd. "It certainly looks like his enthusiasm for morbidity has you fascinated." "It's a very good quote, Julian." Angling her head up, the young Trill smiled. "I can see his point. Sometimes we all get so swept away in war and business that we forget to savor..." Voice trailing off, she paused. "You're still uncomfortable with my co-commanding the Gamma Quadrant expedition, aren't you?" "I think you could use a little more experience under your pips." "Three hundred years isn't enough?" "Dax, Dax...Ezri." He caught her arms, voice dipping. "I've no doubt you will someday be a fine command officer. Ezri Tiegan had the makings. Dax simply provides a ready made window." "You think I'm riding up the rank ladder on memories that aren't even mine. Well, they are mine, Julian. As mine as they were Curzon's, or Joran's, or Jadzia's..." "Don't turn this to Jadzia." "Worf hasn't." There, again. He felt the frustration building up, exasperation mingling with affection. Somehow, without raising her tones, Ezri managed to convey all the contempt in the universe for her predecessor-at least, his adoration of that predecessor. She looked away again, motioning him to a corner, hands resting on her hips. "Julian, I refuse to argue like children over the dead, or those the dead left behind. My decision to follow command aspirations isn't about Jadzia at all. It's about not being Jadzia, or any of the others. They gave me a great deal, helped me understand that I could do the job properly, but that's all they did, made me understand that I could follow childhood dreams. I've always wanted this. Ezri Tiegan wanted it before Ezri Dax, and Dax may never want it again after Ezri. You see? I know my mind, even among the rest of them." "If you say so." Poking him in the ribs lightly, the Trill took the doctor's arm, leading him into Quark's. "I've been here nearly as long as the rest of you, Julian, in memory, and I still wouldn't presume to say I've experienced the half of your troubles...but I have suffered. Ezri may be young and inexperienced, but Dax is ancient. Part of growing old is finding new priorities. Looking back and pulling up old dreams, old desires. The Trill may just be the only species lucky enough to have the chance to actually fulfill those old desires, instead of simply regretting them on a deathbed." "Precisely." Catching her elbow again, the doctor waved Quark away, leaning forward on his stool. "I watched Jadzia Dax die, and saw her husband nearly follow in grief. I'll not be on the other side of the experience simply because you want a red undershirt." "You like undermining the grander things, do you?" Smiling again, with less amusement, she cupped his hands in her palm. "I won't refuse the assignment. You won't be on the other side of the deathbed experience, either..." "You have no way of knowing that. The mission is dangerous, very dangerous, Dax, and you have to consider the risks, not as Ezri, not as a counselor, not as my..." He rubbed his head tiredly. "Consider the symbiont." "I have. Every day since I woke up with the slug in me." Ezri pulled his head down, meeting his gaze firmly. "Now, respectfully, I've told myself to shut up. Things are changing, Julian. I can't stay the same just to give everyone else leverage." He sighed. "I suppose I'll miss you, Counselor Ezri Tiegan Dax." The Trill held a hand over her chest briefly in mock parody of pledge. "I'll come back to you in any incarnation, Julian." "Now if only the captain would manage the same." Head rising, the doctor narrowed his eyes. "This command stint isn't somehow connected to Sisko, is it, Dax?" "Well, I suppose I have taken a few interests from him over the years..." "Ezri!" "But really, Julian, I have enough sense not to change career tracks for it. Besides, Ben was on the mentoree side at times instead." "Jadzia was a battle-ax." He agreed carefully, wincing in remembrance of the more forceful moments. "I was referring to Curzon." "Ah, so even joined Trill women stick together in a fight." "You're incorrigible." "Counseling required?" "You'll just have to make an appointment with my assistant. I have briefings with Nerys." "Neglectful girl. Your assistant isn't half as endearing. I'll wait." "Then you get a private session, lucky you." "You make it sound as if it's a familiar gift." "Oh, I've given one or two. To a grieving widower." Her eyes sparkled gleefully across the table. "Isn't that against some Trill law of yours? Cohorting with former spouses?" "We were in a prison, Julian. We thought we were going to die." Her voice dipped somberly. "Balderdash. That Klingon will never die. Death wishes don't sink through that thick forehead of his." Grasping both hands in his, he strove for lightness. "You're afraid for me. Well, I understand. I'm afraid for myself at times. Counseling...is a safe career, for the most part, but it doesn't offer the same thrill as the other tracks. Only in some cases. Take Deanna Troi, for instance..." "Jadzia's very favorite." A brief smile flashed. "Anyhow...Troi has made a very good niche for herself as captain's advisor, her empathic traits allow it. For the rest of us, the nonempaths, nontelepaths...it's not nearly as glamorous a role. No amount of talking can help everyone, most of us have to walk ourselves through our own shadows. That's what I'm doing, I guess. Shadows be gone." Nodding, she clinked her glass with his, and smiled. "Do you understand?" "I understand...shadows." His answer was slow, measured. "May we each find a way to make them be gone...without casting anchor in despair." "You are a poet, well, thanks to Nog and Mr. Alphonse de Lamartine..." "Just like you're now a command track officer, thanks to youthful dreams and your infernal noncorporal Ben. Worf too, probably." "Well." Her lips curved. "We all have our weaknesses." "Ezri." Raising his voice to catch her as she began to stride away, the doctor shook his head. "Just be careful." "I'm the soul of caution, Julian." Waving a hand in dramatic dismissal, she left. "No, Dax." He shared a glance with Morn. "You're the soul of Jadzia. Very frightening, that." --- The End